


The Things You Don't Plan For

by idelthoughts



Series: Tumblr Ask Box Fic [3]
Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Bad Ideas, Couch Sex, F/M, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-10 14:00:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3292979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idelthoughts/pseuds/idelthoughts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Little known fact:  put your hand down Henry Morgan’s pants and he’ll finally stop talking.  (missing scene from 1x13)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Things You Don't Plan For

**Author's Note:**

> Even though this fic is light and fluffy in tone, it’s got the warnings on it because drunk sex with your grief-stricken friend that you took out to the bar until both of you got blackout drunk isn’t exactly what I’d call a morally clear situation. So, to be on the safe side, warnings.
> 
> This is a fill for a tumblr fic prompt: 
> 
>   _Abe goes straight to bed after hauling Henry and Jo's sloshed asses back to the apartment, leaving them to try and keep quiet while making incredibly impulsive decisions before Jo falls asleep on the sofa._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you to [htbthomas](http://archiveofourown.org/users/htbthomas/pseuds/htbthomas) for the quick beta work!

Henry had an arm around her, and she had an arm around him, and she wasn’t sure who was helping whom up the stairs.

Jo missed the last stair and went down face-first with a cry of surprise, dragging Henry down with her to the floor. Thank you, bottle of rye, for numbing that fall, but she’d definitely have bruises tomorrow. Not Henry, though, as he effectively used her as a pillow to cushion his tumble.

“Sorry. Goodness, sorry, Jo.” Henry’s slurred voice was in her ear, and Jo started laughing, Henry soon following. He rolled off her and they lay on their backs on the ground next to each other, giggling helplessly.

“You two. This is ridiculous.”

Jo lifted her head and saw Abe at the top of the stairs, arms crossed. At least he looked amused.

“Sorry,” Henry said, sitting up. “Had a bit more to drink than I thought.”

Jo let her head fall back to the ground again and closed her eyes, because the room hadn’t stopped moving, and she wasn’t up for tackling it yet.

“Yeah, I noticed. Maybe it was slamming the rest of that rye in the car that did it?”

“She told me to catch up,” Henry said, flailing a hand out to indicate Jo, but accidentally smacked her in the stomach. She grunted and Henry launched into another round of apologies, which she waved away like irritating flies. How could the man apologize so much? Usually he wasn’t sorry for anything.

“Help me get her to the couch before you pass out.”

“I’m fine,” Jo said, raising a hand. “I’ll get up in a minute.”

“Hah!” Abe grunted, getting hold of her flailing arm. “Come on, kid. Up you get. Henry—Henry! Get her other arm. I’m too old to be hauling both your drunk butts to bed.”

“I remember a few times when you were younger, when I had to—“

“Shut up, Henry. You’re drunk.”

“Oh. Right.”

She was pulled to a sitting position and finally cracked her eyes, squinting at the light. Henry’s flushed, beaming face met her.

“Up we go,” he said cheerfully.

She did her best to help out, but her legs didn’t seem to want to work with her.

“The couch?”

“For the best,” Henry grunted.

There was a lot of reeling and a bit of staggering, and then she felt the soft couch and someone pulling off her shoes. Oh, it felt good to be lying down again. Henry and Abe’s voices faded into the background for a while as she flung her arm over her eyes and melted into the cushions.

Something cool touched her hand.

“Come on, drink.”

“Had enough,” she muttered.

“It’s water.”

She cracked an eye, and Henry was over her, looking bleary-eyed and barely upright. He’d lost the tie and jacket, the ends of his shirt untucked, and he was clutching two glasses braced on each knee with a concentrated look that said most of his effort was going into keeping them steady. She took the glass and chugged it down while Henry did the same, and he took it and put it on the nearby coffee table when she was done.

“Abe’s given up on us,” he said. He grinned at her. “If it was just me, I think he’d have made me sleep on the street.”

“Happy to save you,” Jo muttered.

Henry patted her on the cheek with a large, clumsy hand.

“You always do,” he said. He was such a happy drunk. That was nice. She caught his hand, her eyes falling closed.

“Thanks for tonight.”

“Anytime.” Henry’s eyes closed and he swayed for a moment, then opened them with effort. “Last call’s catching up.”

“C’mere.” She pulled on his hand.

He shook his head, which nearly toppled him. He caught himself on the back of the couch, leaning over her.

“I won’t fit.”

“Will too. Look.”

She turned on her side and shuffled over, barely bothering to open her eyes any more. She got hold of his shirt and pulled him down because she wasn’t going to be wrong. Henry was already too smug about being right about things, and she was right about this. With a sigh he flopped down next to her, and though it took a bit of doing, and there was a fair bit of giggling and elbowing of each other in the process, he managed to wedge himself next to her.

“Told you,” she said, poking him in the belly.

“Budge up,” Henry grunted. “I’ll fall off. Here.”

Henry shifted and worked an arm underneath her and around her, pulling her close. He was warm, smelled good, and was more comfortable than the overstuffed throw pillow. She yanked the pillow out from under her and threw it onto the floor, going for his shoulder instead.

“Goodnight, Jo.” Henry planted a kiss on her forehead.

He was sweet. Weird, frustrating, way too opinionated, but sweet. She put her arm across his chest and settled against him. Having someone to hold was exactly what she needed right now.

“Night, Henry.”

 

***

Jo’s breathing was steady and deep almost instantly, and he pressed another kiss to her forehead. He’d had far, far too much to drink, and she was asleep now, so he should probably get to bed. He was so comfortable, though, and it was hard to tear himself away. He didn’t want to move.

It was probably fine.

He was asleep before another thought could be bothered to stagger through his mind.

***

Jo half-woke, stiff from being in one position, and she shuffled to get comfortable. She moved a leg between his, rolling so they were chest to chest, wriggling until they fit together better. He smelled really good, she thought vaguely, as she pressed her face to his jaw, and fell back asleep.

***

Henry shifted, sighing at the feel of a body pressed to his, the hot breath against his face, his hips fitting nicely to hers, hair soft against his neck, all of it like a dream. His hand found the curve of her back, the soft silk of her blouse.

***

She’d found skin; warm, soft skin. She curled her fingers, finding light fuzz on his belly, and a deep breath expanded the chest beneath her. His head shifted and she nuzzled his face, both of them eventually finding each others’ mouths in a sleepy, lazy kiss. He moaned when she pressed her leg against him, and a hand slid down to pull her hips close against his. Oh yes, _this_ was exactly what she needed right now.

***

He had a hand in her hair, another on her rear, and his tongue in her mouth when he finally realized that this was not, in fact, the best sex dream he’d had in ages, but—oh she felt _good_ —really happening. It’d been far too long since he’d done this. Lots of talk, not much follow-through was the story of his love life.

His head was still spinning from the alcohol, his mind and body heavy and lazy, but she was coaxing reactions from him anyway as she rolled her hips against him. He groaned into her mouth, hand clenching in her hair.

***

Henry had a deep voice when he was turned on. The thought filtered its way up through Jo’s consciousness, and her lips slowed.

“Henry?”

Not that she hadn’t thought of it, just…hadn’t planned it.

Well, that was okay. He didn’t seem to mind, judging by the feel of him against her hip and the tight grip he had on her.

***

He’d never heard Jo say his name like that before, heard her voice scratchy and deep, close enough he could steal her breath with another kiss if he wanted. Some deeply sensible part of him knew he shouldn’t. He didn’t want to listen to it, but apparently he still had a weakly functional conscience.

“We’ve had a lot to drink,” he murmured. “Too much.”

“Mm-hm,” she agreed, and she kissed him again, rough and sloppy.

Well, there went the last of his conscience.

***

Little known fact: put your hand down Henry Morgan’s pants and he’d finally stop talking. It felt like a victory, taking him down to the level of desperate panting wheezes as he yanked at her shirt to untuck it, fumbling at the catch to her bra with shaking hands.

***

Oh, that was—she was—he—oh god.

***

She was pretty sure she could get off without even taking off her clothes. His leg was in exactly the right place, and the pathetic sounds he was making as he pressed his face to her shoulder were incredible. This was like a teenaged make out session in her parent’s basement, like they were—oh yes, definitely yes.

***

Henry stared wide-eyed at the spinning ceiling, trying to catch his breath. Jo was limp on him like a blanket, making contented noises which quickly faded into deep breaths, then gentle snores.

He was going to have to dry clean these trousers immediately.

***

She grumbled unhappily when her bed shifted, limbs untangling with hers. She had a blanket instead of a warm body. She quickly sank back under.

***

Henry staggered from the living room in the approaching dawn light, heading straight for the bathroom. He had two hours before Abe was up, and he was damned if he was going to give Abe the satisfaction of seeing his father debauched and hung over from an evening of dubious decision-making.

He looked back towards Jo, still passed out on the couch, then scrubbed his hands over his face and continued on with determination. They’d both had too much to drink. He’d leave it at that, and if she wanted to talk about it, they’d talk about it. Otherwise, he wouldn’t think about it any further.

Oh, who was he kidding. This was going to be fantasy fodder for the next decade.

***

Jo winced at the cotton-dry mouth and familiar sick stomach. Ugh, not again. She pried opened her eyes.

She did not expect Abe holding a glass of green sludge to be the first thing she saw.

The only thing worse than trying to figure out how she got here in the first place was seeing how painfully chipper Henry was, when the last thing she remembered was him sagging on the bar, pontificating on the meaning of life, love, and loss.

Well, it wasn’t the first blank spot she had in life. There were a few too many of them recently. She really had to slow down sometime soon.

Apparently the price of passing out on their couch was solving the mystery of a missing horse, so she took a deep breath and tried to focus on Abe, and getting her brain moving.


End file.
